You Always Save Me
by RaindropsOnDeadRoses
Summary: Sam's been attacked by a hellhound (No description behind the hunt itself, I'm terrible. Use your imagination.) and Dean just wants him to feel better. Brotherly love and brotherly love, if you know what I mean.


_Okay. So. I know how much I suck. Believe me. I know. But, I do at least have an excuse for Unbreakable and any other WIPs that I have out right now. My computer has gone to complete shit. It no longer connects to the internet, and although I am currently using my girlfriend's computer which has no connection issues, it would be a miracle if I could actually turn mine on long enough to save the documents to a flash drive without it crashing and most likely deleting everything previously existing from the drive. It won't stay powered up for more than about a minute at a time anymore. But. One of these days, I swear, I will figure something out and get back at it. Please don't give up on me. I love you all. *Insert sad kitty ears here.* Anyway, here's some extremely smutty smut to let you know that I still exist. So. Yeah. Everyone have a good day. __Oh, also, tons and tons of reviews are always welcome. :3  
_

"Easy, baby," Dean whispered, his voice honey-smooth against Sam's skin. "Easy. You're alright."

Sam whimpered, clutching at the stitches in his side and burying his face in Dean's chest, his skin stark white against his brother's even in the dim moonlight. "Can I take more pain meds yet?" His voice sounded small and distant to himself, but hurt his ears at the same time.

Silently, the elder Winchester retrieved the prescription bottle of pain medication from the counter of the kitchenette and removed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, supporting Sam's neck so that he could drink it down properly to swallow the pills. He watched until he was satisfied, placing both the water and the pills beside the bed so that they would be close if Sam needed either of them.

Sam was breathing through his teeth, clutching the fabric of Dean's flannel pants as soon as he could reach them again. "God, it hurts."

"I know it does. But you're tough, you hear me? You're gonna be okay." Dean's nervous, anxious mind was racing, but he was doing everything he could to keep himself sounding composed.

Sam nodded, but couldn't keep a tear from escaping the corner of his eye.

"What do you need me to do?" Dean asked, cupping Sam's face and softly brushing over his cheekbone.

"Bath," Sam managed. "Hot water helps. I can get 'em wet now, right?"

"Yeah." Dean kissed his temple, lighter contact that a feather. "Wanna stay here while I get the water ready?"

"Mhm. Come get me when you're done."

Dean was careful about preparing the water in the tub, making sure that it was warm enough for Sam to last a while in it before becoming uncomfortably cold but not too hot at the same time. He found that it was something he could focus all of his energy and thought processing on, at least for the time being, and once he'd finished, he made his way out of the bathroom and stood beside the bed, peering down. "Can you sit?"

Sam folded the sheets back as he tested his weight on his right arm and seemed to be doing adequately with pushing himself up until the inevitable bending of the waist. "Fuck. God." He stilled, attempting to level his breathing, but a couple of quiet sobs wracked his frame first.

"Don't move," Dean instructed soothingly, scooping his baby brother into his arms in one swift motion and not putting him down until they reached the cool tile of the bathroom floor. "Just lemme take these off for you, 'kay?" Before he was met with a response, Dean began tugging down Sam's boxers, pushing them to the floor and helping him step out of them and into the tub. "Temperature good?"

"Yeah. Thanks for doin' this so late. I know you gotta be tired."

"I just want you to feel better," Dean told him honestly, kneeling in the floor and reaching down into the water to join their hands.

Sam blushed. Dean wasn't necessarily unaffectionate, but they didn't exactly hold hands on a daily basis. He attempted to stretch forward to meet his brother's lips, but Dean got the message before he could make it entirely there and met him halfway. Sam smiled, mouths still pressed together. "L've ou."

Dean pulled away, the corner of his lips turned up. "What?"

"Love you," Sam repeated, more clearly this time.

"Love you, baby boy," Dean replied, allowing emotion to flood his voice. He kissed Sam again, this time with his mouth parted ever-so-slightly, allowing his tongue to dance over Sam's bottom lip. His intention was mere, innocent distraction from the pain. Not sexual diversion. But he heard Sam moan just a little into the kiss and took it as a sign not to stop. After Sam gave him the green light to keep going, that is. "You okay with this right now?"

"Absolutely," Sam breathed, reaching out of the water to cup the back of Dean's head with his hand. "Been missin' you."

"I know. 'M sorry. I swear I'll make it up to you soon as you can take it. Don't mean I'm gonna leave ya hangin' tonight, but I don't think I can give you what we both know you need right now."

"Just… something. Anything's good with you, De." Sam was sure he could feel his pupils dilating and leaned his head to the side against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Better be careful what you're leavin' exposed there, Sammy. If I was a vamp I coulda just-"

"Shut up," Sam laughed before his brother could finish.

Dean smiled at the sound. "Doin' a little better?"

"A little," Sam confirmed.

"Damn hellhound 'bout got you. I was scared to death." Dean's voice allowed a sliver of vulnerability to slip through and at the same time as it concerned him, Sam couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine at the rarity and rawness of it.

"But you saved me." Sam drew his hand from the water and allowed his fingertips to trace Dean's jaw, meeting his eyes and holding the gaze. "You always save me."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Dean was first, leaning over the edge of the tub and allowing Sam's hand to slip into his hair as he pressed their lips together again. It was soft at first, but not timid, because it didn't need to be. Never with them. It was always clear to one what the other did or did not want, and Dean knew that right then Sam needed more than just a kiss. He needed to feel real after something like this, like he was alive and like being on the brink of death had never even been an occurring thought.

"Get in here." Sam's voice was already lower than usual, which meant that he wasn't attempting to hold anything back.

Dean needed no more invitation, shimmying out of what little clothing he had on and joining his brother in the tub, careful not to jostle him.

"Back up."

"What?"

Sam's eyes were almost predatory, glistening with a sudden heat. "Back up. Against the tub. Wanna sit on your lap, big brother."

"Jesus Christ…" Dean felt his cock beginning to harden at the endearment and did as Sam asked, pressing his back against the warm plastic opposite the faucet.

Sam maneuvered around, gently holding onto his side, and draped himself across Dean's thighs, bending his own unreasonably long legs at the knee to fit in the tight space. "That's better," he whispered, ghosting his open mouth over Dean's neck.

"Good." Dean's breath hitched slightly and he covered by clearing his throat. "Sammy, are you… are you sure that you can handle this?"

The corner of Sam's lips turned up into a wicked smile. "You think I can't handle a little touching, let alone sex, right? Well, five minutes ago I might have agreed with you. But five minutes ago the meds hadn't started kicking in, the water hadn't quite started helping, and you hadn't kissed me like a god with that cocksucking mouth yet. So now I don't think it would be fair for you to keep me from anything that I want. In which case, I'm gonna take more than you think you should give me and you're just gonna sit back and watch. Understood?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his breath coming shallowly with his disbelief of the manner and urgency of his brother's words. "Sam, I just... I don't want you to—"

Sam cut him off with a long, deep kiss. "I'll be fine. Okay? I promise, I'll tell you if I need to stop. But right now I just need _you. _Please, De."

After a moment, Dean let out a shuddering breath and nodded. "Okay, Sammy. Okay."

After giving Dean one more kiss, Sam turned away from him, stabilizing himself on his hands and knees so that his bottom was level with Dean's stomach. "Work me open. God, I need you inside me fucking yesterday."

Dean scoffed at that, reaching forward and placing a hand on either of Sam's thighs. "Anybody ever tell you you've got a great ass?"

"You. Every day. Come on, Dean."

"Impatient little bitch," Dean teased, sliding his hands over to meet in the middle, spreading Sam's cheeks apart with his thumbs. "Such a pretty little hole, Sammy. So goddamn tight."

"Too tight for you to fit. Open. Me. _Up._" Sam's voice was near desperate now and he was fighting to keep composure.

Dean recognized the change in tone and began stroking Sam's hole with the pad of his middle finger. "Okay, baby. Can you try to relax for me?"

Sam attempted to release the tension from his muscles but quickly realized that without internal pressure on his side the pain began increasing again. "I can't," he panted, frustrated.

"Alright sweetheart," Dean soothed, detecting the pain in Sam's voice. "Then you're just gonna have to be a little more patient for me, okay? It's gonna take just a little longer, but we'll get there. I promise."

Sam nodded, shivering from arousal and fighting to keep himself positioned correctly without slipping.

Dean worked at this like an art, petting Sam's entrance until it finally gave way, just enough for his finger to slip into the first knuckle. "Doin' so good," he praised. "So good for me, Sammy."

Sam whimpered and pressed back against the pressure, forcing Dean's finger in further and wincing at the sting of the dry slide.

"Hey, hey, hey. Slow down. We've got plenty of time. Want me to get some lube? I've got some in the bedroom, I can just—"

"No," Sam interjected, pointedly wriggling down against Dean's finger again and gritting his teeth, determined to speed up the process. "No lube. Just need to feel you, De."

Dean silently rubbed his free hand over his face and blew out a breath upon the realization that his finger was now buried to the hilt.

"Go on," Sam prompted, patience obviously lacking immensely by now. "Another one."

Dean didn't even try to argue this time, working in another finger next to the first in record time and then a third, turning and stretching them until Sam was opened up to his satisfaction.

"Touch it," Sam whimpered, extremely impressed with the fact that his arms hadn't given out by this point. "Please. Just one time."

Dean's left hand stroked Sam's side, the one with the stitches, while the fingers inside him curled up to brush his prostate as lightly as Dean could manage. "Whatever you want, baby."

Sam's arms finally gave out at that, but Dean caught him gracefully and without incident. Once he was upright and on his knees still facing away from Dean, Sam reached behind himself and pulled Dean's hand away. He didn't need to give his brother instructions on what to do next. It all played out on its own from there. Dean's cock was waiting, gloriously ready as it always was for Sam, and he sunk down on it like he had been sculpted around the very flesh that it was composed of.

"God, Dean. Jesus. Missed you so much. Missed this."

Sam was rambling, which Dean had taken to mean that he wanted some talk in response. Dean just wasn't sure if what his brother needed at the moment was sweet or dirty. Time to test the waters. "Fucking love it when you ride me, Sam. Feels so goddamn good."

Sam let out a low, guttural moan and raked his fingernails up Dean's thigh, his hips working in small, quick circles. "Feels so good with you buried in my ass, big brother. So fucking good. Love being on top of you like this, making sure you hit my sweet spot every time I go down…"

So, dirty it was. Under the pure sex-god tones of Sam's voice, however, Dean detected something else. Something in his words. Sam wanted it this way because he had full control of the situation. Because that was what he needed after the attack. Control. Hooking his arm under Sam's to splay his hand over Sam's increasingly tightening abdomen, Dean ceased all motion and allowed Sam to fully take the lead.

And take it he did. Sam moved like an animal, but still in such a graceful, beautiful manner that Dean's breath caught in his throat. Up and back down, in small, desperate half-circles, faster and faster every second Sam rode his brother, clinging to humanity by nothing more than gasps and hair pulls and the sound of the water splashing around them. On and on it went, hot and radiant and unattainably raw, until, finally, Sam shuddered. "Dean… Gonna… Oh, god…"

He smacked down Dean's attempt to touch him, to stroke him through the orgasm, insisting, "No, not like that. Wanna come like this. Just on the feeling of you inside me." When he did, it was like a fountain. It seemed to remain undying for full minutes, and when it finally slowed, it was in spurts, not fully stopping until Sam was sweating, back pressed against Dean's chest for support, gulping in one lung-full of air after another and fighting to retain consciousness.

Dean's own orgasm coincided with Sam's, beginning somewhere near the start and ending almost simultaneously. He was undoubtedly strung out afterward, but Sam was his primary focus, so he gathered the willpower to pull himself to his feet, step over his come-high, half-delirious little brother, and pull the plug in the tub while twisting the knob for the shower.

Once they were both sufficiently rinsed off (a task in and of itself), Dean half-carried Sam back to bed and lay down beside him, not bothering to clothe either of them. He picked up Sam's hand and kissed each finger separately, saving one for the palm of his hand and allowing his lips to linger for a moment before resting Sam's hand back on his own hip, where it had been before.

"Thank you," Sam breathed, nuzzling Dean's chest.

Dean peered down at him with a faint smile. "For?"

"Tonight," Sam responded, his syllables heavy. "Taking care of me. Everything."

Dean just hugged Sam tighter to his body, brushing his mouth over Sam's hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Definitely better," Sam confirmed sleepily. "Tired. But better."

Dean emitted a low chuckle. "Get some sleep, okay?"

Sam yawned and shook his head lazily up and down. "G'night, De. Love you."

"Love you, beautiful boy," Dean replied, tucking a lock of Sam's hair behind his ear and pressing one last kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight."


End file.
